


its fine, all fine

by red_streaks



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-21
Updated: 2015-04-21
Packaged: 2018-03-25 02:11:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3792721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/red_streaks/pseuds/red_streaks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I’m sorry", she says, because Regina’s hands are shaking and she can see dirt under her fingernails.</p><p>Regina turns, her hand still shaking on her forehead and smiles, starting with her eyes, copper and light, and nothing like Snow’s. She lowers her hand, and says, with the prettiest smile Emma has seen yet,</p><p>"Emma, tell me something that’s true."</p><p>Takes place after Cruella's death</p>
            </blockquote>





	its fine, all fine

**Author's Note:**

> Super quick drabble b/c the feels hit

Emma walks back to the apartment, back to lying parents who have shadows and scars instead of the light they _promised_ , the swore they had. She walks back and lets Regina take care of the body, doesn’t even ask. Regina placed a hand on her shoulder as she hugged Henry, letting her know she was there, always there, and went downhill for Cruella.

Emma walks back to the apartment with Henry under her arm, and she doesn’t know who is supporting who, she just knows that Hook is also by her side, and while Henry feels like support and hot cocoa, Hook feels like dead weight at the bottom of a red ocean, angry and brimming with desperation.

Somewhere along the journey Emma feels a little gust of wind blowing her damp hair, and she _smells_ her; if color had a scent, Emma was sure that Regina’s purple smoke represented everything that was Regina, her scent, her clothes, her damp hair. Regina’s silent, her heels don’t make a sound. She walks behind them, like the priest walking down the aisle at a funeral, wearing bright colors and smelling of something different, something hopeful, something _magical._ So Emma detaches from Hook, doesn’t think twice about it and stops midway from the apartment; she reaches out a hand, unable to look at Regina with her clear eyes and smudged make-up. And the crazy thing is, the beautiful thing that is Regina and will always be out of this world, unimaginable, is that Regina doesn’t ask, Emma doesn’t ask. Regina moves forwards and slicks back Emma’s hair, drops a brief kiss of Henry’s forehead and takes Emma’s outstretched hand because Emma is waiting waiting waiting for Regina to do something.

And Regina does.

She stays silent but her heels make sound now and they reach the apartment faster this way, the sound matching Emma’s heart. She can feel her heartbeat in her fingertips, where Regina is squeezing too tightly, and that’s fine, all fine. Regina is here.

They never make it to the apartment because somehow, they walk to Mifflin street, and _that’s fine, Regina, yes, Henry should stay here tonight, I don’t know if I’ll stay. Okay._

They send Henry to bed after hot cocoa and Emma doesn’t remember asking for cinnamon, doesn’t remember much of anything except Regina’s hand on her knee and the loud heartbeat she can feel through the material of her jeans. She doesn’t remember Hook leaving, and that’s fine, all fine. Regina’s here.

Regina doesn’t ask but they move to the couch. Emma doesn’t drink, but she sees Regina raising a shaky hand to her forehead as she drowns a glass of cider with her back to Emma.

 _I’m sorry_ , she says, because Regina’s hands are shaking and she can see dirt under her fingernails.

Regina turns, her hand still shaking on her forehead and smiles, starting with her eyes, copper and light, and nothing like Snow’s. She lowers her hand, and says, with the prettiest smile Emma has seen yet,

_Emma, tell me something that’s true._

And everything _stills_ for Emma, it’s concrete thoughts and smiles; nothing like the moment Cruella fell.

“It felt _good_. The sound of her hitting the ground. It’s like- it’s like my stomach went up, like in a roller coaster and nothing felt better than that.” Regina smiles again and sits by Emma, gathering her cold hands in her warmth.

“The first time I killed somebody, I was praised for it. I don’t want to do the same, but I _know_ how you feel.” Regina tilts her head forward and tells Emma to continue. Emma _talks_.

The energy she felt when Cruella taunted her, the look on Cruella’s face, the mad desperate look she wanted so badly to end. The light surging forward, straight from her elbows to her palms, how it was exciting and new, the rush of the kill and how the whizzing of Cruella’s body falling made her blood coil and uncoil, rushing to her head in one dizzying high.

Regina only nods and nods, doesn’t speak and it isn’t until Emma realizes that she’s hitting Regina’s thigh with every word that she says, struggling to talk through tears, that she stops talking nonsense and takes one struggling breath and another until she’s breathing too fast, and hitting too much, and she’s bent over Regina, who is somehow holding her and caressing her, and its fine, all fine. 

Emma cries, and sobs, and it rips through her with each shuddering breath and shiver. Regina doesn’t cry, she knows because Emma constantly searches her eyes, for something, for nothing.

She lays shivering and gasping in Regina’s arms, and it’s fine, all fine.


End file.
